You need to eat
The Softness of Healing
The morning after the breakdown felt different. It wasn’t the sudden, jarring brightness of a cured heart, but rather the muted, steady glow of a candle that had finally stopped flickering in the wind. Amelia woke up in the living room, her limbs heavy and warm, pinned down by the weight of her sisters. To her left, Megan was a dead weight, her arm thrown over Amelia’s waist even in sleep, her breathing deep and rhythmic. On her right, Lara’s head was resting on Amelia’s shoulder, a few strands of her blonde-highlighted hair tickling Amelia’s cheek.
For the first time in weeks, the pit in Amelia’s stomach didn't feel like a hollow, aching void. It felt quiet.
She tried to shift, but the movement caused a chain reaction. Yoonchae, who was curled at the foot of the sofa like a protective guard dog, let out a soft grumble and blinked her eyes open. Seeing Amelia awake, the younger girl didn't offer a morning greeting; instead, she simply reached out and squeezed Amelia’s ankle, a silent confirmation that she was still there.
"Morning, Meely," Yoonchae whispered, her voice husky with sleep.
"Morning, Yoonie," Amelia replied, her voice sounding small but clear.
The stirrings woke the others. Sophia, who had been sleeping in the armchair nearby, sat up and immediately smoothed her hair, her "mom" instincts switching on before her brain was even fully functional. She stood up, stretching her back with a soft groan, and walked over to the huddle on the floor.
"How are we feeling?" Sophia asked, kneeling beside the sofa. Her hand found Amelia’s forehead, checking for a fever she knew wasn't there, but the gesture was purely out of habit and care.
"I’m okay, Soph. A bit stiff," Amelia admitted.
"That’s because you had five people using you as a mattress," Daniela joked, popping up from behind a mountain of blankets on the other side of the room. Her dark curls were a wild mess, but her eyes were bright. "I think I have a permanent imprint of Megan’s elbow in my ribs."
Megan finally stirred, groaning as she buried her face further into Amelia’s side. "Shut up, Dani. You loved it. You were snoring like a chainsaw."
"I do not snore!" Dani protested, throwing a decorative pillow that Megan caught with one hand without even opening her eyes.
The room filled with the familiar, chaotic energy of Katseye, but it was softer today. There was an underlying tenderness, a carefulness in the way they moved around Amelia. As they eventually migrated toward the kitchen, Manon stayed close to Amelia’s side. She didn't say much, but as they stood by the counter, she reached out and began to braid a small section of Amelia’s long blonde hair, her fingers nimble and gentle.
"I called the staff," Manon said quietly, so only Amelia could hear. "We have the next three days clear. No practice, no fittings, no filming. Just us."
Amelia felt a wave of guilt wash over her. "Manon, I didn't mean to ruin the schedule. The comeback—"
Manon stopped braiding and turned Amelia around to face her. Her model-like features were set in a look of firm, unwavering sisterhood. "Amelia. Look at me. You are more important than a music video. You are more important than a chart position. If you aren't whole, Katseye isn't whole. We don't want to dance if you’re too weak to stand. Understand?"
Amelia nodded, her bottom lip trembling slightly. "Yeah. I understand."
"Good," Manon smiled, a rare, dazzling expression that reached her eyes. She tucked the finished braid behind Amelia’s ear. "Now, Sophia is making pancakes. Real ones. With chocolate chips. And you’re going to have at least two, or I’ll have to get protective, and you know how annoying I get."
Amelia laughed, and the sound felt like a victory.
The kitchen was a mess of flour and laughter. Sophia was at the stove, expertly flipping pancakes while Lara acted as her "sous-chef," which mostly involved eating the stray chocolate chips and offering commentary on the browning of the batter.
"Okay, Meels, seat of honor," Lara said, pulling out a chair at the center of the table.
Amelia sat down, and immediately, Megan was there, pulling her chair so close that their shoulders touched. Daniela sat on the other side, leaning her head on Amelia’s shoulder. It was a physical cocoon, a constant reminder that she was surrounded.
When the plate was placed in front of her, Amelia felt a brief, sharp pang of anxiety. The internal voice—the one that sounded like the cruel comments she’d read—whispered about calories and "softness." But then she felt Megan’s hand rest on her thigh under the table, a steady, grounding pressure.
"Together, Ames," Megan whispered.
Amelia took a bite. It was sweet, warm, and comforting. She didn't look at the plate with fear; she looked at her sisters, who were all watching her with such blatant, unabashed love that she felt like she might burst.
After breakfast, the "healing protocol," as Dani called it, moved into the next phase. They all retreated to the master bedroom—the one shared by Sophia and Yoonchae because it had the largest floor space. They dragged every duvet and pillow in the house into a giant "nest" in the center of the room.
"Okay," Lara announced, holding up a basket of skincare products and makeup. "Today is a 'Love Your Face' day. No stage makeup. Just hydration, massages, and Meels getting pampered."
They spent the next few hours in a tangle of limbs. Lara applied a cooling face mask to Amelia’s skin, her touch light and artistic. While the mask set, Daniela sat behind Amelia, carefully brushing through her long hair, detangling the knots that had formed during her restless nights of crying.
"You have the best hair in the group, I swear," Dani muttered, her voice full of genuine envy. "It’s like actual silk. If I see one more person online say you aren't the visual, I’m going to track their IP address and fight them."
"Dani, no violence," Sophia warned from where she was painting Yoonchae’s toenails, though she was smiling.
"Only a little bit of violence?" Dani bargained, making Amelia giggle.
As the day progressed, the conversation drifted from lighthearted jokes to deeper, quieter reflections. They talked about the pressures of being in the spotlight—how Manon felt the weight of being the "perfect" visual, how Sophia felt the burden of keeping everyone happy, how Megan struggled with her tough-girl image when she just wanted to be soft.
Amelia listened, realizing for the first time that she wasn't the only one fighting ghosts.
"I think," Amelia said, her voice catching everyone’s attention. "I think I just got so loud in my own head that I forgot how to hear you guys. I thought if I didn't look like a 'perfect' idol, I was dragging you all down."
Megan, who was lying with her head in Amelia’s lap, reached up and cupped Amelia’s face. "Meels, you could be wearing a trash bag and dancing off-beat, and we’d still want you there. You’re our spark. When you’re quiet, the whole house feels like the power went out."
"We’re sorry we didn't push harder sooner," Sophia added, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "We saw you withdrawing, and we wanted to give you space, but we should have realized that space was the last thing you needed."
"No more space," Yoonchae declared, crawling over to wrap her arms around Amelia’s waist from behind. "From now on, we’re being annoying. We’re going to follow you into the bathroom. We’re going to sleep in your bed. You will never be alone enough to read a mean comment again."
"That sounds slightly terrifying, Yoonie," Amelia joked, wiping a tear from her eye.
"It’s a threat and a promise," the youngest replied, sticking her tongue out.
As the sun began to set, casting long, purple shadows across the room, the girls grew quiet. They were all piled together, a literal mountain of Katseye members. Amelia felt the warmth of them—the scent of Sophia’s vanilla perfume, the heat of Megan’s body against hers, the soft sound of Lara’s humming.
She felt a strange sense of detachment from the girl she had been forty-eight hours ago. That girl had been small, shivering, and trapped in a digital cage of self-loathing. This girl—the one currently being used as a pillow by the main dancer of the group—felt solid. She felt loved.
"Hey, Meels?" Megan whispered, her voice sleepy.
"Yeah, Megs?"
"I deleted the apps from your phone while you were in the shower earlier. I changed your password, too. If you want to see what people are saying, you have to ask me, and I’ll only read you the ones that say you’re an angel."
Amelia let out a long, shaky breath. "Thank you. I think... I think I’m okay with that."
"Good." Megan squeezed her hand. "Now, let’s talk about the most important thing."
"What’s that?"
"What are we ordering for dinner? Because I’m thinking Korean fried chicken, and I’m thinking we need at least three boxes."
The room erupted into a debate about flavors and side dishes, the heaviness of the previous days fully replaced by the mundane, beautiful bickering of a family.
Later that night, after they had gorged themselves on chicken and watched a mindless romantic comedy that they spent the whole time making fun of, the house settled into a peaceful hush.
Amelia was back in her shared room with Megan and Lara. As she climbed into her own bed, she felt a familiar tug on her duvet.
"Move over," Megan commanded, already sliding in beside her.
"You have your own bed, Megan! It’s literally two feet away," Amelia teased, though she was already making room.
"My bed is cold. This bed has a Meels in it," Megan countered, pulling the covers up to their chins. She wrapped her arms around Amelia, pulling her back against her chest in their usual "spooning" position. "Go to sleep, bestie. I’ve got you."
Across the room, Lara turned off the main light, leaving only a small, warm lamp glowing. "Love you, Meels. See you in the morning."
"Love you too, Lara. Night, Megs."
Amelia closed her eyes. The comments were still out there, and the world was still demanding, and her journey toward loving her body again was only just beginning. There would be hard days ahead—days where the mirror felt like an enemy and the food felt like a battle.
But as she felt Megan’s steady breathing and heard the soft rustle of Lara settling into bed, Amelia knew she wouldn't be fighting those battles alone. She was the seventh member of Katseye. She was the little sister of six extraordinary women who would tear the world apart to keep her safe.
She wasn't a "blurred spot" or a "shadow." She was the light they all gathered around. And for the first time in a long time, Amelia Rozek fell asleep feeling like she was exactly where she was meant to be.
The house was quiet, the air was warm, and the love was loud. That was more than enough.